Make No Apology, It's Death Or Victory
by Scribbler95
Summary: You've seen Sherlock, John and Demi solve 'A Study In Pink', now it's time for them to deal with the killer who can walk through walls...
1. Chapter 1

Demitria Blake had been living with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson for exactly two weeks. She had retrieved her belongings from storage – an event that had resulted in the biggest shouting match Baker Street had ever seen when Sherlock tried to 'deduce' about her private life by looking through her clothing. Poor John had arrived home from job hunting just in time to hear her announce at full volume that the 'arrogant sod' could have asked her questions if he was curious in stead of rifling through her underwear. By way of revenge she had hidden his jar of eyes. He apologised (as much as Sherlock Holmes _can_ apologise) fairly quickly and even offered to teach her boxing after her 'disastrous' and 'appalling' attempts to escape a simple hold when being manhandled by a serial murderer/cabbie. She had returned the eyes and lessons began. John had returned home that night not to screaming and shouting but a home made boxing ring and Sherlock telling her that she punched like Anderson. He was still recovering from his broken nose for that one. It was officially her first day on the job at St. Bartholomew's hospital. She woke up at an hour she was sure it was illegal to be conscious at, dressed as quietly as she could and crept down the stairs into the kitchen to eat before she left. Oh the joys of working at a place that was open 24/7. She opened the door and flicked on the light.

"Bloody hell!"

She had walked directly into Sherlock Holmes himself who was fully dressed and apparently fully conscious.

"What are you doing up at this hour? And with the lights off at that?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's five o'clock, a perfectly acceptable hour to be awake – sleeping just wastes valuable time. And I was testing my eyesight in the dark. It would be no good to be cornered and endangered just because I cannot see."

"Try eating carrots. Now be a good fully-awake flat mate and put the kettle on will you?"

An hour later she was semi-live and was entering the hospital morgue. A perky brunette practically skipped over to her.

"Hi! I'm Molly, you must be Demitria?"

Demi had discovered a lot in just a few hours. She knew where the corpses were, where everything was in the lab and that Molly was completely infatuated with Sherlock Holmes.

"He come here often?" She asked while looking into a microscope.

"Oh, here and there. Checking things for his cases and all that. He's so..."

"Arrogant? Pompous? Irritating?"

"Well...yes actually. The other day he said I was wearing too much lipstick so I took it off and then he said my mouth looked too small!"

Demi laughed slightly.

"He never points out my lipstick. Strange considering that I favour a particularly bright shade of blood red."

"How do you live with him?"

"With great difficulty, trust me. I'm clocking off now Molly. I promised John I'd pick up some shopping on the way back."

She grabbed her pea coat and, with a parting wave, departed to the hell-hole that is Asda supermarket. She trawled idly around the isles. Sherlock was right, normal life was mind-stagnatingly boring.

"Right...milk, lettuce, nicotine patches, vodka...can't forget that..."

Finally she found herself standing at one of the self scan machines attempting to scan the food.

"_Item not scanning."_

"Oh shut your trap."

"_Unexpected item in bagging area."_

"You're going to end up as scrap metal if you don't scan the bloody lettuce!"

Eventually the shopping went through. She felt oddly smug for a moment until it refused to read her card.

"Oh come on! Read the card you stupid inanimate object!"

"Problem Miss...Blake wasn't it?"

She whirled around, brandishing a lettuce, to see what appeared to DI Lestrade, presumably on lunch break, smiling slightly.

"Oh hi Lestrade. How's life?" She asked, still waving the card like a madwoman over the scanner.

"Er...it's average I suppose. Need any help?"

"If you wouldn't..." Her phone rang. "Oh sod it." She picked up the phone, glancing at the caller ID.

"Yes Sherlock?"

He was panting as if he'd just run a race.

"Did you get the nicotine patches?"

"Yes Sherlock I did."

"Good. I'm bored again."

"Wonderful. Find yourself a gruesome murder and stop pestering me." She hung up and turned to see Lestrade looking vaguely amused.

"Sometimes I feel more like his nanny than his flat mate and I've only lived there two weeks!"

"Considering a new flat yet?"

"Several times...but no. It's not horrendously bad."

"Yet."

"Yet." She agreed. "Now how about that help?"

She stormed up the stairs and into the flat where Sherlock was sat in a chair, eyes closed.

"I just had a row, in a shop, with a chip and pin machine."

He raised his eyebrows and spoke.

"How on Earth did you manage to have a row with it?"

"Well I say row, it sat there not working and I hurled abuse at it. Bought you some patches."

She threw the box at him and he caught it expertly. She scowled around the room.

"What happened in here? Are those swords marks?"

He looked innocently at the table.

"Oh yes, so they are." He opened his laptop and frowned slightly as he checked his emails. She began to unpack the shopping.

"What about that case you were offered...the diamond?"

"Not interested. I sent them a message."

"Hmm."

John walked up the stairs.

"Any luck?" Asked Sherlock, not looking up.

"No, not ye...is that my laptop?"

"Yes."

"It's password protected!"

"Not very well obviously. Help me unpack will you?" Called Demi from the kitchen shortly before screaming.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! WHY IS THERE A NOSE IN THE TEABAG POT?"

She glared around the door at him and he just shrugged. She huffed a sigh and slumped down opposite him in a chair.

"Sherlock I hate to be needy but I am up to my eyeballs in Uni debts so my wallet is as barren as the Sahara, is there any way I could borrow some...Sherlock are you even listening to me?"

He blinked and looked over to her.

"I need to go to the bank. Coming?"

She hauled herself upright as John left the kitchen, speaking as he pulled on his coat.

"Do you really need to ask?"

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	2. Chapter 2

They were in the poshest bank she had ever seen. Escalators and glass dominated the entrance and Demi was glad she had dressed sort-of-properly for work (meaning she wasn't in a purple tartan skirt, knee socks and a band t-shirt as she had been the day before, much to the amusement of Sherlock who always wore pretty much the same thing and didn't understand why she owned so many different items of clothing) and so didn't feel like a teenager in what was clearly an adults building. She and John followed Sherlock up to the main desk.

"Sherlock Holmes."

The receptionist nodded and waved them through to a side office.

"Sherlock when you said you needed to visit the bank...why was that exactly?"

A man in a suit approached them.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sebastian."

Demi bristled instantly. Her brother was called Sebastian and for the record she didn't exactly get along well with him.

"Well what's it been, eight years since I last clapped eyes on you? And who is this lovely lady?" He smiled in what Demi imagined was supposed to be an alluring manner. She was still trying to wipe the image of her brother's face from her mind. Sherlock did that odd half-growling noise under his breath.

"My friends Demitria Blake and John Watson."

"Friends?"

"Colleague." Added John. Demi stood on his foot and smiled.

"Oh we're best friends. Share a flat and all."

"Share a flat? Blimey man, how do you do it?"

He led them into yet another office and sat them down opposite himself.

"So...you've been busy, travelling a lot. Flying all the way around the world twice in one month?"

The man laughed slightly.

"Right. You're doing that thing...we were in Uni together. He could do this little trick..."

"It's not a trick!" Interrupted Sherlock.

"Could tell you your whole life story in one glance."

"Oh we know, we've seen him do it." Said John.

"Anyway this freak would see you once in the hall and know exactly who you'd been shagging the night before. We all hated him for it."

Demi's fists tightened and she threw 'Sebastian' such a dirty look that he literally shuddered.

"I simply observed..."

"You're right though. Two trips around the world every month. I'll bet there's a stain on my tie from some sort of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan or something..."

"No I've just been chatting to your secretary outside. She told me." Replied Sherlock.

"There is a stain on your tie though." Added Demi. "Not Manhattan ketchup, just coffee."

The man blushed and stuttered slightly before standing and brushing himself off.

"Well I'm glad you could make it. We've had a break in."

They followed him up to a floor filled with people talking in various languages on phones and typing on computers.

"Broke in late last night."

"And what did they steal?" Asked John.

"Nothing. Just left a little message."

He scanned a card and showed them in. Two seemingly random squiggles had been painted on the wall with yellow spray paint.

"These two shots are sixty seconds apart." He showed them the two pictures on the screen, one without paint and one with it. "Whoever did this broke in, splashed paint around and left all within sixty seconds."

"How many ways into this room?" Asked Demi, looking around.

"And this my dear is where it gets interesting..."

They all stood crowded around a computer. Sherlock's hand brushed Demi's due to proximity and both of them jerked suddenly. John watched with some amusement as Sebastian explained that all the doors in the bank were locked with that one computer.

"That door wasn't opened last night."

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you. Five figures." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a cheque. "This is an advance."

"I don't need an incentive. Come on Demitria." He grabbed her wrist and towed her off. Sherlock was back in the break in room taking pictures and Demi was beside him scanning through the security images. Sherlock opened the window and actually stepped out onto the ledge, eliciting a yelp from Demi who's eyes betrayed her panic. They were a long way up. He turned and saw her expression, stepping back into the room.

"I wasn't going to jump."

"Well I wasn't going to let you fall. You think they climbed up?"

"It's a theory."

"Hmm." She smiled to herself at his defensiveness.

Demi couldn't stop laughing. Sherlock was prancing around the international calls room like some sort of ballet dancer/rabbit and people were staring at him (and her) curiously.

"Sherlock... what on... Earth are you...doing?" She gasped between fits of giggles. John arrived just in time for Sherlock to slide a slip of paper out of a plaque.

"Demitria why are you crying?" Asked John. She just shook her head and clapped Sherlock on the back as he walked over.

"You should definitely take up dance my friend."

She followed the two men out and Sherlock explained to John how he had known about Sebastian's worldwide trips (as they hadn't actually talked to his secretary beyond telling her Sherlock's name).

"That graffiti was a message. Find the person it's meant for..."

"And they lead you to the guy." Finished John. "But there are 300 people up there, who was it meant for?"

"Pillars." Replied Sherlock. John looked confused so Demi decided to clear it up.

"Surely you noticed Sherlock's rather elaborate dance routine back there? He was checking around pillars to see who it was meant for."

Sherlock nodded.

"The time is a clue as well. That was intended for someone who came in at Midnight." He waved the slip of paper before them. "Can't be many Van Coon's in the phone book. Taxi!"

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	3. Chapter 3

They stood outside Edward Van Coon's flat, Demi impatiently pressing the buzzer. He didn't seem to be answering.

"So what do we do now?" Asked John, "Sit here and wait for him to come back?"

"Just moved in." Stated Sherlock, eyes flicking to the other labels.

"Huh?" Came Demi's lady-like reply. She had been up since five o'clock that morning and to be honest she wasn't really in the mood for Sherlock's random tangents.

"Floor above, new label."

"Could have replaced it." Replied John. Sherlock gave him one of his patented 'Idiot' looks.

"No-one does that." And with that he pressed Mrs Wintle's buzzer.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi er... I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met."

There was a pause.

"_Well actually I've just moved in."_

Sherlock smiled. Demi frowned at his face. Damn that man was a good actor.

"Actually...er...I've just locked my keys in my flat."

"_Do you want me to buzz you in?"_

"Yes please...and can I use your balcony?"

"_What?"_

Long story short they ended up on Mrs Wintle's balcony. Sherlock began to clamber down into Van Coon's own balcony, shortly followed by Demi who's small stature and thin frame from years as a student allowed her to do so quite quickly. John remained behind, psychosomatic or not his leg still hurt. Sherlock opened the fridge which, in classical rich guy style, was full of champagne. The buzzer went.

"Sherlock? Demi? Could you let me in? Are you okay?"

They opened doors, scanning the rooms for human life.

"Any time you two feel like letting me in..."

Sherlock came up against a locked door as Demi went to let John into the flat. He banged against it with his shoulder until it burst open and he stumbled into the room. He stopped suddenly.

One dead banker.

One bullet in his temple.

One gun on the bed.

One possible witness gone. Demi walked in and froze.

"Ah crap, we'd better call the police."

"Do you think he'd lost a lot of money? Money loss is common amongst city boys..." Started John.

"We don't know that it was suicide." Answered Demi as Sherlock looked around.

"Oh come on, the flat was locked from the inside! You two had to climb in using the balcony!"

"Been away three days judging by his laundry..." Sherlock's voice came from their left. They looked over to him.

"Look at the case! There was something tightly packed inside it!" Demi walked over as John spoke.

"Thanks, I'll take your word for it, I'm not desperate to search through some bloke's dirty underwear."

Demi rolled her eyes as Sherlock bolted past her so fast she almost got whiplash just looking at him.

"Those symbols at the bank, why were they there?" He asked.

"Some sort of code?" Supplied John.

"Obviously but why were they painted...?"

"Yes, why not use email or something?"

Demi's eyes got her I-just-made-a-connection gleam in them.

"Because he wouldn't have answered, what sort of message does everyone try to avoid?"

Sherlock withdrew a tiny origami flower from the mouth of the corpse.

"He was being threatened."

A man in uniform marched in, an air of smugness about his person.

"Ah, Sergeant..." Began Sherlock, only to be interrupted.

"Yeah, I know who you are and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."

"I called Lestrade, where is he?"

"Busy, I'm in charge. And it's not Sargent, it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock."

There came a rather loud and unladylike snort from Demi's general direction and she suddenly seemed to find the floor extremely interesting. DI Dimmock scowled and walked out of the room, the three stragglers following.

"Well we seem to be looking at a suicide."

"It does seem the only possibly explanation of all of the facts..." Started John. Demi sighed and Sherlock spoke.

"Wrong, it's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like and you're choosing to ignore anything that doesn't agree with it."

"Like?" Prompted Dimmock.

"The wound was on the right side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left handed." Replied Demi, smiling smugly. "Requires quite a bit of contortion don't you think?" She demonstrated said contortion and almost poked Sherlock in the eye. "Whoops, sorry Sherlock."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well A, because she listens to me and B because all you have to do is look around the flat. Coffee table on the left, pen on the left side of the phone because he picked it up with his right hand and took notes with his left hand, plug sockets – habitually used to ones on the left. Do you want me to go on?"

"No I don't think you need to..." Said John, only to be cut off again.

"Oh I might as well, chopping board, knife is on the left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only possible explanation of all of the facts."

"But the gun?"

"He was waiting for the killer, he'd been threatened."

"What?"

"Message at the bank." Explained John.

"But the bullet?"

"Went through the open window."

"What are the chances of..."

"When can you get the ballistics report?"

"Soon hopefully we're sending the body to St. Bart's. I've heard good things about the forensics there. Anyway if the door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in and out?"

"Good, you're finally asking the right questions." Sherlock answered. Demi laughed and muttered something that sounded oddly like 'It's a miracle...'

"I'm sorry but who are you?"

She extended a hand.

"Demitria Blake, forensic scientist and mortician at St. Bartholomew's hospital morgue."

He froze and she withdrew her hand as Sherlock's voice came from behind her.

"Come on Demitria!"

She winked and followed her flatmates from the crime scene.

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	4. Chapter 4

They marched into the restaurant towards the table where the smug looking bank worker who had called Sherlock in was telling some sort of joke about a fork.

"It was a threat, that's what the graffiti meant." Stated Sherlock.

"Look I'm kind of in a meeting here so could this wait?"

"Er, let me think about that...no." Replied Demi, glaring icily down at him. "One of your bankers, a man who works in your office, was killed earlier today."

"What?"

"Van Coon" Offered John. "The police are in his flat."

"Still want to make an appointment?" Asked Sherlock, "Would nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?"

Demi found herself impatiently waiting outside the men's room for the three men to finish their little pow-wow. She could hear snippets through the doorway.

"He was a bright guy...Oxford..."

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts?"

"Lost 5 million one week, made it back a week later. We all make enemies you know."

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple."

"Police are telling us it's a suicide."

"They're wrong."

"Well my boss doesn't think so. I hired you to do a job, do it." And he waltzed out, past Demi who artfully extended her leg in mock fatigue and managed to trip him. Unfortunately he managed to stay upright but not before a rather spectacular windmill impression. John and Sherlock exited shortly after and she turned to them.

"And there I was thinking that all bankers were supposed to be heartless bastards."

They made their way back to the flat. Sherlock stayed awake all night playing his violin and thinking while his two flatmates (who had by now invested in a large supply of earplugs for such occasions) tried to snatch a few hours sleep before Demi crawled out of bed to work a few hours at the hospital and John, who had located a local practice with an opening, went along to a job interview.

She sighed as she entered the flat, closing the door with her foot as she hung her coat on the rack and wandered up the stairs. Sherlock was sat as still as a statue, hands touching as if in prayer.

"I asked John to pass me a pen. About an hour ago. Where is he?"

"He's at some sort of job interview. Didn't you notice that he'd gone out?" She replied, tossing him a pen.

"Uh, dull."

"But necessary." She replied, making a beeline for the kettle as the door opened and closed again.

"Oh hi John, any luck?"

He smiled and nodded.

"I went to see about that job at the surgery."

"And...?" She prompted, filling three mugs with the necessary requirements, tea for John – one sugar – coffee for herself and Sherlock – two sugars, black for Sherlock and milk for herself. Good God she was going domestic!

"It was great, she was great..." He ruffled his hair in the mirror as Demi smirked.

"Who?"

"The job!" He replied a little too quickly.

"You said she." Said Sherlock.

"I said it." He argued. Demi rolled her eyes and, popping a mug down in front of each of the bickering men, nodded her head towards the open laptop.

"What's that?"

"'The intruder who can walk through walls'?" Added Demi.

"Happened this morning. He was shot dead in his flat, doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly like Van Coon."

"Good God...you think..." Stuttered John.

"He's killed another one." Finished Demi morosely. "Fantastic, more paperwork for the overworked and underpaid morgue attendants. Scotland Yard?"

"Scotland Yard." Agreed Sherlock.

Demi and John stood by while Sherlock explained to DI 'Pillock', as Demi so affectionately called him, about the similarities between the two murders, waving a copy of the ballistics report (which Demi had managed to scavenge from work) in front of his face. Suddenly something – or more someone – caught Demi's eye. It was a man, slightly taller than herself, with blonde hair and green eyes, who was shouting at a young police constable.

"My client was a respected businessman! I need the files on his death in order to validate his will!"

"I-I'm sorry sir b-but those files are conf-f-idential until further notice."

"Damn it! Do you know who I am?"

"The biggest prick this side of the Equator?" Offered Demi, glaring at the man so fiercely she was practically burning holes into his skull. He whirled around and looked over to her. John, Sherlock and DI Dimmock paused in their conversation (as did most of Scotland Yard – including Anderson and Donovan who just happened to be chatting by the coffee machine) to watch. The lawyer froze, looking her over haughtily before laughing snidely.

"Well look who it is. Hello Demitria. I'd heard you lived in London after your graduation-"

"Which you didn't attend."

"You didn't attend mine!"

"You didn't invite me!"

"I wonder why?" He answered bitingly. She scowled at him, fists clenching.

"Sherlock, John, meet my brother Sebastian. Who is a world-class wan-"

"I'm sorry but who are they?"

"My flatmates."

"F-Flatmates? Ha! You really have reached new levels of vulgarity haven't you _little sister?_ Go on then freak, which one of them are you shagging?"

She made to hit him but Sherlock rested a hand on her shoulder, more restraining than comforting.

"Hitting a lawyer isn't a great idea – trust me, I've been there. And for your information _Sebastian _Demitria isn't – as you so spectacularly phrased it – 'shagging' either of us." He and John seemed to be just as angry as she was.

"Okay, I'll go along with that. And Demitria? You really do need to control that temper of yours. It does upset mother so."

"Good, the last thing I want to do is please that cow. Now, what are you yelling about you egotistical bastard?"

"It's none of your information but I've been denied access to the files regarding my client – a Mr Van Coon."

"That'll be because I've classified them. You see I am in charge of the cadaver of your client down at the morgue. Terribly sorry but you'll have to excuse me if I don't go to great lengths to give you access?"

He made to argue but Sherlock spoke again to DI Dimmock, obviously having decided (much to Demi's delight) that Sebastian wasn't worth the time of day. John however was still wishing that he'd brought his gun. Demi's brother was – to be frank – getting on his nerves _ever so slightly_.

"Five minutes in his flat is all we're asking."

Dimmock reluctantly agreed and they all made to leave. Sherlock was the last out. He paused in front of Sebastian, towering over the shorter man and narrowing his eyes into cat-like slits.

"Take my advice Mr Blake: Leave Demitria alone. If you don't I have the connections to make your life hell for the rest of your days."

"Sherlock?" Called Demi from the front doors. "You coming?"

"Right behind you." He called back, his eyes still burning into that of her brother before he whirled and left with a flick of his coat.

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	5. Chapter 5

Demi had been worryingly quiet since meeting her brother in the police station and John was constantly asking her if she was okay. She had always nodded when he asked this but when Sherlock met her eyes he saw the truth. They were glistening with unshed tears, her arms wrapped around her frame as if to hold it together. Suddenly her reluctance to answer his questions, her anger at his prying all made sense. She hadn't just been ridiculed at school as a child as he had originally supposed, she had been outcast in her own family. A freak among those she should have been able to trust – and so she had found trust amongst those considered freaks. He didn't comment in his usual manner and for that she seemed grateful, a little of her usual confidence returning as they climbed the stairs to the dead man's flat. This was where she felt safe, how ironic. Both hers and Sherlock's eyes zeroed in on the origami flower on the floor, something that would have gone unnoticed had they not been looking for it. Sherlock headed for the window.

"Four floors up, that's why they think they're safe! Lock the door from the inside and they think they're impregnable. They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in!"

And he was off like a shot. Demi smiled slightly.

"What?" Asked Dimmock.

"We're looking for a killer who can climb! He climbs the walls like an insect and he ran along the ceiling, dropping in through this sky light!"

"You've got to be kidding me? Like spider man?"

Demi stepped forwards.

"He scaled six floors of an apartment building and jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon..."

"Now hold on!"

"And of course, that's how he got into the bank! He ran along the ledge and jumped on to the terrace! That's what you were doing hanging out of the window Sherlock!"

Sherlock nodded excitedly and ran down the stairs closely followed by his two companions who caught him up just as he was hailing a taxi.

They drew up to West Kensington Library and followed Sherlock – who was holding a library book that he had 'borrowed' from the flat of the latest victim's flat.

"The date in the book is the date of the day he died..." He muttered, mostly to himself, as he looked along the shelves for a book with a similar number. Something yellow caught John's eye and he moved the books in front of it.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock and Demi turned to see what he was looking at. Behind the books, painted onto the shelf using the same yellow spray paint as the ones in the bank, were the two squiggles (which were now seeming to be a little more than just meaningless squiggly shapes).

"Oh dear."

They were gathered back at Baker Street HQ, looking at the pictures, articles etc. that Sherlock had pinned to the wall with varying pins and kitchen knives.

"So the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening message for Van Coon, Van Coon panics and runs back to his apartment, locks himself in, hours later he dies."

"Lucas goes to the library where the killer has left it on the shelf where he knows it will be seen, Lucas goes home..." Started Demi

"And that night he dies too." Finished John, frowning slightly. "Why did they die Sherlock?"

"Only the cipher can tell us. Shall we go for a walk?"

They sighed but followed him nonetheless.

"The world is run on codes and ciphers, from the security system at the bank to the chip and pin machine Demi verbally abused. But it's all computers, electronic ciphering methods. This is different, its an old ciphering system. Modern code breaking methods won't unravel it."

"So where are we going?" Asked John.

"I need to ask for some advice."

"Oh my God the world is ending! John, Sherlock needs help! It's the apocalypse!"

Sherlock shoved her slightly and she grinned up at him cheekily.

"So _you_ need advice?"

"On painting yes, I need to talk to an expert."

They followed him around the corner to where a twenty-something year old man was spray painting a policeman onto the side door of the museum.

"Part of my new exhibition."

"Interesting." Replied Sherlock. The painter paused to look over to the group.

"Call it 'Urban Bloodlust Frenzy'." He smirked, winking at Demi who raised an eyebrow.

"Catchy."

"I've got two minutes before a community support officer comes around that corner, you really want to do this while I'm working?"

Demi pouted slightly.

"Well we're a bit pushed for time..."

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch and he smiled lop-sidedly.

"For you love I can spare a few seconds."

She smiled brightly and Sherlock held out the picture he had taken of the graffiti, back rigid after seeing Demi's flirting. The man handed his bag to John.

"Know the author?" Asked Sherlock.

"Recognise the paint, it's like Michigan, hard-core propellant. I'd say zinc."

"Do you recognise the symbols?"

"Not even sure it's a proper language."

"Two men are dead Raz and this could help find the killer." Stated Sherlock, still angry.

The guy raised his pierced eyebrows.

"What and this is all you got to go on? Hardly much now is it?"

"Are you going to help us or not?"

"I'll ask around."

"OI!" Came the shout from around the corner, Demi grabbed John and pulled him away as the community officer chased after them. They managed to escape due to Sherlock's uncanny knowledge of roads and alleyways, stopping eventually and gasping for breath. 'Raz' smirked at Demi again.

"I like a woman who's fast on her feet..."

Sherlock shoved his bag back into his hands with a little more force than was necessary.

"Yes thank you Raz." He grabbed Demitria's hand and pulled her away as they headed back to the flat.

"You're lucky John, they probably would have given you an ASBO for just holding that bag."

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	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock sent John on an errand to find Lucas' diary from his personal effects before all but dragging Demi away to Van Coon's office. They sat in the taxi, opposite each other, the silence as thick as Mrs Hudson's home made pea soup.

"Yes Sherlock?" She sighed, looking out of the window.

"Your brothers a bit of a tosser isn't he?"

Well she honestly hadn't been expecting that. She laughed out loud, eyes widening as she grinned.

"Well well well, saint Holmes knows how to curse! Honestly man, I was beginning to think you were above swearing."

"I usually am, I save it for special occasions."

"Hmm, I can see. Yes my brother is a prick, my sisters' just as bad. They're twins. He's a lawyer and she's a teacher. Boring, perfect nine to five jobs with perfect families and perfect lives. They're not swimming in bills I can tell you that much. Aurora's just been on holiday to the Bahamas according to the emails my mother insists on sending me."

"Dull."

"Incredibly." She smiled slightly and met his eyes, blue meeting blue. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as she spoke.

"I have a niece, Sebastian's daughter. Never met her, probably never will. I have a picture – he sent it to gloat – but no face to face contact. Mum insists on this bloody charade that she actually cares about me, emails and phone calls and the like. I'd like to have seen some of that 'loving care' when I was trying to balance two degrees and student loans. Aunty Jean is my dad's sister, her name's only Hudson because she got married. She hates my mum too. Told her where to go when she tried to get to me through her, brilliant to listen to I'll tell you that much...oh look, we're here."

Sherlock helped her out of the car, pausing to smile gloatingly at the man sent by Mycroft to stalk them, and they went up to Van Coon's office.

"He flew back from Deli on Friday...looks like he had back to back meetings with the sales team."

"Can you bring me up a copy?"

"Sure..."

"What about the day he died?" Asked Demi, gazing around the office.

"There's a bit of a gap there I'm afraid...I have his receipts?"

She retrieved said receipts and the pair of them frowned down at them, sifting through the pile while Sherlock asked questions.

"Was he an appreciative boss?"

The woman shook her head and Demi paused in her sorting.

"The only thing he appreciated bag a big price tag."

"Like that hand cream?" Demi gestured to the bottle on the desk. "He bought that for you didn't he?"

The woman started and twitched uncomfortably as Sherlock and Demi placed the receipts from the taxi and the tube in order.

"Why would he get a taxi there and the tube back?" Asked the blonde receptionist, twirling her necklace nervously.

"He was carrying something heavy..." Started Demi, only to be cut off by Sherlock.

"He was delivering something...to someone near Picaddilly...then..."

"He stopped for lunch." Finished Demi, waving a receipt for an espresso bar.

And they were off again, leaving a very confused receptionist in their wake as they hailed another taxi.

Demi walked alongside Sherlock who, rather disconcertingly, was talking to himself. He was walking backwards and she saw John walking up to them, reading a diary.

"Sherlock..." She began, too late it seems as her two flatmates collided simultaneously. She laughed at their faces, clutching on to Sherlock's shoulder to support herself.

"Very funny Demitria...anyway, John..."

He launched into full scale rambling mode with John constantly trying to get his attention.

"I've managed to put together a picture using scraps of information..."

"Sherlock?" Tried John.

"Using credit card bills and receipts...he flew back from China and then he came here."

"Sherlock." John tried again, Demi rolled her eyes.

"He was here, somewhere in this street but I don't know where..."

"SHERLOCK!" Shouted Demi, effectively breaking him out of his trance and causing an elderly man in the café to her left to spill his coffee down his jumper in surprise. "John's trying to talk."

Sherlock sighed.

"Yes John?"

"He was in that shop, over there." He pointed to 'The Lucky Cat Emporium' and Demi sighed.

"I hate cats."

"How could you tell?"

"Lucas' diary, he was here too. Wrote down the address."

They wandered into the shop, a tinny bell dingling as they walked in.

"You want lucky cat?" An elderly Chinese woman asked Demi as she surveyed the shop.

"No thanks."

"Good for love life!"

Demi snorted.

"What love life?" She questioned lowly. Sherlock glanced at her.

"Well you seem to be getting along with my brother fairly well."

She rolled her eyes.

"Sherlock, he took me out to dinner once. Can we please focus on the case?"

John called them over, gesturing to a price tag.

"That label there is exactly the same as the cipher."

They left the shop, walking down the road. Demi thrust her hands into her pockets. It was absolutely freezing.

"Its an ancient Chinese dialect, hangzhou, these days only street traders use it."

"So they were numbers?" she asked. "In the bank and the library?"

"Its a fifteen..."

"The line was a number too John, the number one."

John's stomach growled and Sherlock allowed them to eat. They sat in a small café, eating hungrily as Sherlock looked out of the window.

"So two men travel back from China, both head straight for the Lucky Cat Emporium. What did they see in that shop?"

"It's not what they saw, it's what they both brought back in those suitcases."

"I take it," said Demi, "That you don't mean duty free?"

"Remember what Sebastian said? He lost 5 million one week..."

"Made it back a week later!" Said Demi, "That's it! He was a smuggler!"

"Lucky Cat was their drop off."

"So why," Said John, "Did they die? Why would they finish the job and then have someone threaten and kill them?"

"They nicked it." Said Demi, "Had a bit of a magpie moment and took the shiny thing."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her choice in words but nodded, she was in full criminologist mode now, he could practically see the murder motives running through her mind behind her icy blue eyes. "The killer doesn't know which one of them took it so he went after both of them."

Sherlock looked out of the window as Demi gulped down the last of her coffee.

"Remind me, when was the last time that it rained?"

And he was off again.

**Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they had paid and made it out of the café, Sherlock was examining a copy of the Yellow Pages.

"It's been here since Monday."

He stood and rang the buzzer of the flat in front of them. There was no answer and so he took off down the alleyway beside it, his flatmates hot on his heels.

"No one's been in that flat for at least three days."

"Could have gone on holiday?" Suggested John, pulling his coat tighter.

Demi looked upwards to where Sherlock was apparently glaring at the sky. Ah, right...

"They've left their windows open."

Sherlock leapt up and pulled down the fire escape with a squeal that resembled that made by nails on a chalk board before climbing up. Demi watched and sighed, turning to John.

"I'll make sure he stays out of trouble shall I?"

"Probably a good idea."

Sherlock was already entering the flat, clambering through the window and knocking over a vase in the process, catching it in a super-humanly quick move. Demi laughed.

"That was graceful."

He ignored her and examined the carpet.

"Someone's already been here. Knocked over the vase, just like I did."

He pulled some clothing out if the drier and sniffed it before chucking it over his shoulder at Demi who dodged it artfully, almost knocking over the vase for a third time. The buzzer went.

"Do you think that maybe you two could let me in?"

Demi picked the milk out of the fridge and sniffed it cautiously, handing it to Sherlock who did the same. John spoke through the letter box.

"Can you not keep doing this please?"

But they were thoroughly absorbed in their findings, Demi wandered into an adjoining room to have a look around.

"I'm not the first!" Called Sherlock to John.

"What?" Came the muffled answer.

"Somebody's been in here before me! Size eight feet, small but athletic."

John rang the buzzer again as Demi picked up a photo in the next room, calling out her findings to Sherlock.

"They had small hands, small but strong. Our acrobat maybe?" She continued on, musing quietly to herself. "But why didn't he close the window when he left?"

Realisation flooded her mind.

"Of course! Stupid! Obvious! He's still..." A crushing pressure closed around her throat and she choked as the scarf was pulled tighter.

"Demitria?" Called Sherlock, walking closer as she tried to fight off the attacker. John continued to call through the door as Sherlock approached the room, frowning. Demitria was being awfully noisy in her movements.

"Any time you feel like including me!"

"_Sherlock." _Came a raspy cry. At her urgent tone, Sherlock walked faster, opening the door with a bang only to see her before him, slowly going red in the face, blue eyes wide with fear and mouth still silently mouthing his name as a man strangled her with a scarf. She slumped down as the attacker dropped her, limp and lifeless, Sherlock springing forward at the sight of Demitria being hurt.

"No I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compete with my _massive intellect!_" Continued John, oblivious to the fight ensuing in the flat. The attacker was fast though and he left the room. Sherlock was given two options, stay and make sure Demitria was all right, or run after the ninja-like acrobat.

Damn it!

He ran forwards and turned her onto her back. She didn't appear to be breathing.

"Demitria! Demitria wake up, this is not the time nor the place for lying down!"

No response save the feeble wavering of her eyelids, half closed. He rapidly thought over what little he knew about medicine. Suddenly it came to him and he pinched her nose, lips crashing urgently to hers as he breathed into her. Her chest rose slowly and as he pulled back she coughed, gasping for air as her eyes opened fully.

"Sh-erlock?" She rasped, dryly, smiling gently. "Why didn't you go after him?"

"You could have died. I'll still catch him of course. Just not right now." He helped her up. Both of them tried to ignore the tingling of their lips. Demitria was still struggling to breath. She tapped Sherlock on the shoulder and handed him the origami lotus she had swiped from the ninja while he was strangling her. Sherlock opened the door and spoke to John.

"The milks gone off and the washing was starting to smell. Someone left here in a hurry three days ago."

Demi nodded, wheezing out a sentence as Sherlock picked up a note from the floor.

"Soo Lin Yao, we have to f-i-nd her."

"How exactly?"

Demi snatched the note from Sherlock, showing John the museum name on the paper.

"We could st-art with thi-is."

"You've gone all croaky, are you getting a cold?"

"I'm fi-ne." She wheezed, giving Sherlock a look that dared him to tell John what had actually happened. Due to his aim to avoid premature death – especially caused by a girl who could possibly get away with it by examining his body and, despite all evidence, tell the police that it was stress induced or some nonsense like that – he stayed silent bar hailing a taxi to the museum.

Demi was still coughing and avoiding speech when they arrived at the museum and Sherlock began talking to one of the workers.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Three days ago, here at the museum. This morning they told me she'd just resigned. Just like that, leaving her work unfinished...are you all right? Would you like some water?"

Demi nodded, coughing again and ignoring the concerned gazes on her as she gratefully accepted the bottle passed to her.

"Tha-anks."

Sherlock continued.

"What was the last thing that she did? On her final afternoon?"

They were shown to a line of locker-style containers.

"She does a demonstration for the tourists, some kind of tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and..." His voice faded out as Demi's eyes zeroed in on the graffiti on a nearby statue.

"Sherlock?" She rasped. "The statue."

The others looked up at the statue she was pointing to.

The graffiti was two yellow, spray-painted numbers.

More specifically, Chinese numbers.

"Here we go again." Came her wheezy voice. Frankly, she was glad she wasn't working the next day.

**Ta dah!**


	8. Chapter 8

"We have to get to Soo Lin Yao." stated Sherlock as he pulled his two companions out of the museum.

"If he's still alive that is."

The thumping of approaching feet could be heard.

"Sherlock!" Came a familiar voice.

"Oh, look who it is." Spoke Demi, who on account of the water given to her by the museum worker now sounded less like a toy with a dodgy squeaker. Raz ran up to them, panting slightly.

"Found something you'll like." He spoke, winking at Demi who found Sherlock's grip on her arm tightening slightly. They followed him into what appeared to be a car park/ skate park in which there where teens on BMXs were doing tricks and yelling things like 'Dude! That was Rad!". The walls were absolutely plastered with rather impressive looking graffiti.

"If you wanted to hide a tree, the best place would be in a forest don't you think? Most people would just walk straight past it, not knowing and unable to decipher the message."

"There." Pointed Raz. "Spotted it earlier today."

Demi looked it over.

"We'll need more evidence to decipher the message."

Sherlock, John and demi set off in different directions, trying to find more. Demi found a paint can, the same shade of yellow as the graffiti. She doubted prints would be traceable but it was worth a shot. She took it back to Sherlock just in time for John to run over.

"Answer your phones! I've been calling you!"

They shared a semi-guilty glance as he spoke again.

"I've found it."

They ran after John, towards the railway tracks. He stopped before...a blank wall.

"Well that's impressive." Stated Demi dryly, massaging her temples.

"It's been painted over, I don't understand! It was here not ten minutes ago!"

"Someone doesn't want me to see it." Said Sherlock before grasping John and drilling him on the accuracy of visual memory while dancing round in this strange circle, with John emitting cries of 'Sherlock, what are you doing?' while Demi watched with her eyebrows raised.

"Are you sure you can remember all of it?"

"Yes, well I would be if I could get to my pocket, I took a photograph." He removed said phone from said pocket and showed them both the picture of the wall.

Sherlock and Demi had pinned the pictures to the wall with varying knives, blobs of blue tack and some drawing pins beside the ones already held up by miscellaneous cutlery. Demi had made a very large cup of coffee for her and John (who was in the process of falling asleep into his). Luckily, she was capable of all-nighters due to the intensity of studying for two degrees which often resulted in her severely lacking sleep due to nights of relentless and meticulous study. It was now around half-six in the morning and she hadn't slept in over 24 hours. Molly had said that it took a while to get into the pattern and let her do alternate days, choosing her shifts, so Demi didn't have work until the night after.

"They're always in pairs." She noted, swirling the contents of her mug around and smirking when John gave a start.

"Oh I need to sleep..."

"Why paint them so near the tracks?" Mused Sherlock.

"No idea." Muttered John.

"Hundreds of people pass by there every day. Maybe he knows someone who does just that...maybe he's trying to contact his people in the underworld?" Asked Demi, prodding John awake again.

"Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. It's here, in the code...we can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao." Said Sherlock, scooping up his coat again and leading them out of the flat.

"Two men who travelled back from China were killed. And their killer left them messages in hangzhou numerals." Sherlock spoke to the museum worker again.

"That cipher, the one on the statue, was exactly the same as the others. He means to kill her as well." Finished Demi, rubbing her eyes.

"Look, I've tried everywhere. Friends, colleagues, I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away...what are you looking at?"

Demi followed Sherlock's line of sight to the brown teapots in the display cabinet.

"Tell me about those teapots." Said Sherlock.

"The pots were her obsession. They need urgent work, if the clay dried it can crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them."

Demi suddenly noticed something.

"Hey, wasn't only one of those shiny yesterday?" She asked.

"And now there are two." Said Sherlock by way of answer.

They spent the day chasing up leads, wandering around the museum and looking for more of the distinctive yellow graffiti. By nightfall they were all well and truly knackered – well, except Sherlock. He was, as Demi put it ' The Duracell bunny in human form, he just kept going and going...'. By batting her eyelashes and stating that it was a matter of life or death, Demi managed to convince the museum worker to let them into the museum after hours to search for Soo Lin's hiding place. They waited in the shadows by the teapots until she entered the room silently, taking a pot out of it's case and beginning to prepare tea.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" Asked Sherlock, catching the pot before it hit the ground. His two companions melted into view behind him and Soo Lin's eyes widened.

"That's centuries old, don't want to break that." Noted demi, yawning slightly and breaking the air of mystery surrounding them. "Hi by the way. We're the baker Street detective force."

"You saw the cipher." Stated the terrified woman. "You know he is coming for me."

"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Said Sherlock.

"I had to finish, to finish this work. It's only a matter of time, I know he will find me." She said as John lowered himself into a chair.

"Who is he? Have you met him before?"

"When I was a girl. I recognised his...signature."

"The cipher." Added Sherlock.

"Only he would do this."

For some reason she went on to call him 'the spider' in Chinese. Demi had a feeling this guy had read one too many Spiderman comics in his time. Soo Lin untied her shoe, showing them a tattoo on her foot, a black flower.

"You know this symbol?"

Demi's years of study kicked in.

"Isn't that the symbol of an ancient crime syndicate in China?" Sherlock nodded.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark, everyone who hauls for them."

"You were a smuggler?" Asked John.

"When I was fifteen my parents were dead. I had no livelihood, no way of surviving. Except to work for the bosses."

"Who were they?" Asked Sherlock.

"They were called The Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. I managed to leave that life behind me, I came to England. They gave me a job here, everything was good. New life."

"And then they came looking for you." Said Demi kindly. Soo Lin nodded.

"Yes, I had hoped that after five years, maybe they would have forgotten me. But they never really let you leave. He came to my flat, he asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen. I refused to help."

"So you knew him well? When you were back in China?"

The woman nodded sadly.

"Oh yes. He is my brother. He has become their puppet. In the power of the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. The next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting."

They flattened a photo out on the table.

"Can you decipher this? The code?" Asked Sherlock.

"All the smugglers know it. It is based on a book."

The lights went out and Demi's overly-exhausted voice could be heard stating 'Oh bloody hell. That's all we need.'.

"Demi, be quiet." Warned Sherlock.

"He is here." Said Soo Lin. Sherlock grabbed Demi and dragged her towards the door. "He has found me."

Sherlock grabbed Demi and towed her out of the room. He gestured to the two corridors.

"You check down there, I'll go this way."

John could be seen hiding Soo Lin as Demi nodded and set off into the left wing of the museum. She stopped and whirled around at the sound of gunshots.

"Sherlock!" She darted back towards the source of the noise, mentally noting the madness of running _towards_ a loaded gun as opposed to away from it. Sherlock saw her and dragged her behind a wall just in time to avoid another bullet. They could hear John leaving the room where he was somewhere behind them as the shots rang out again, Sherlock pulled her around the corner and up some stairs.

"Oi!" Yelled Demi as more shots broke the silence, "Some of those skulls are over 200,000 years old! Have some respect!"

The shots stopped.

"Thank you!" She called out from behind a pillar. After a moment of silence they looked around. There was no one there.

They ran back towards where Soo Lin was hiding, hearing a single shot as they caught up with John.

"Oh my God."

They ran into the room and there she was. Lying in a pool of her own blood with a black origami lotus on her outstretched palm. A single tear rolled down Demi's cheek and she turned around, resting her head on Sherlock's shoulder as – in a show of rare affection – he wrapped an arm around her, holding her close and she cried silently for the woman they might have saved.

**Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Demi was incredibly irritated with DI Pillock.

"Look, just how many murders is it going to take to convince you that this maniac is out there?"

He marched past her and she grabbed his shoulder, forcefully turning him to face her.

"Don't walk away from me you bastard! A young girl was shot tonight because if the killer that someone is meant to be tracking down...oh yes that would be you who's meant to be finding him wouldn't it?"

Sherlock stepped up to him.

"Brian Lucas and Eddie Van Coon were both smugglers working for a gang called the Black Lotus that was operating here in London, right under your nose."

"Can you prove that?" He demanded

Demi approached Molly in the hospital canteen.

"Hi there Molly! How's life?"

"Oh Demi, hi. Sherlock!" She stated as he, John and an irate looking DI approached them group.

"Look, I know that paperwork has already gone through but can we wheel a couple of the bodies out? Its vital for our investigation."

"You work with Sherlock?"

"From time to time yes, pays the rent and keeps me fit. The bodies?"

"I don't know..."

Sherlock looked closely at her head.

"You hair...you've parted it to the side. You usually part it in the middle."

"Yes, well..."

"It looks nice, suits you better that way."

Molly's cheeks flushed and she bowed her head. Demi glared at Sherlock, both for toying with her new friend and for awaking this irritating knot in her stomach. Jealously? Impossible, she didn't get jealous. It was probably indigestion. Yes that was it, Sherlock's pathetic flirting was giving her indigestion.

"Well I guess so. You do work here Demi...come on, make it quick."

They wheeled the cadavers out, unzipping the bags to reveal the feet, all of which had the same tattoo of a lotus.

"So.." Said Demi. "Either these men all happened to get the same rather girly tattoo or, shock horror, we're actually telling the truth!"

"So what do you want?"

"Every book from both of their apartments." said Sherlock.

"Their books?"

Sherlock nodded and left to get the books. Demi helped wheel the bodies away. Molly sat looking rather dejected.

"Why do I let him do that to me?"

Demi looked up from the freezer drawer.

"Because he's weirdly attractive behind the whole alien outer shell?"

Molly giggled as Demi wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm thinking of giving it a shot with that guy from IT upstairs, you know, the one who thought my nose was cute?"

Though Demi hadn't worked a lot, she had visited to get and know her new work partner and so was fully aware of the messages some guy called Jim from the upstairs department had left on Molly's blog.

"Go for it." She started, finishing sadly, "Life's too short. Thanks again Molls,"

She waved her goodbye and left in search of Sherlock and John.

The trawled up the stairs again, fatigue making their feet drag.

"It's not just a criminal organisation, it was a cult. Brother was manipulated by one of its leaders...General Shaan..."

"We're still no closer to finding him." Interjected a very tired John.

"Wrong, we've got almost everything we need to know!" Replied Sherlock hotly. "She gave us most of the missing pieces. Why did he visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?"

"She worked in the museum. She was an expert in antiquities." Called Demi from the kitchen where she could be heard filling up the kettle (again). "China has loads of antique, rare ones hidden after the revolution. The black lotus must be selling them." She leaned against the door frame and watched as Sherlock leapt for John's laptop once more to only half-hearted protests. He scanned through antiquities sold at auction, finding hundreds donated by anonymous sources and fetching a pretty penny each.

"So they probably did nick something then..." Said Demi, resting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder as she leaned closer to the screen. He tensed slightly and with a quiet apology she removed her hand. There came a knock at the door.

"Demi sweetie are we collecting for charity?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Well there's a young man at the door with crates of books."

Sherlock bounded past, almost knocking Demi over in the process.

"They're for a case. Well John, let's go."

The police officer at the door looked extremely confused. Demi smiled and explained as much of the situation as she could. Sherlock returned from carrying a crate up with John, glaring daggers at the young officer who didn't seem to be keeping his eyes at the level of Demitria's face.

"Demitria are you going to stand around all night or are you actually going to help?" It came out sounding harsher than originally intended but had the desired effect. He glared once more at the young officer (who no doubt was going to tell the other members of the force about his encounter with the world's only consulting detective).

Demi looked apprehensively at the pile of books that they had gathered.

"Bloody hell. We're going to be up all night. You know when you say 'I was up all night with two blokes' it doesn't generally make people think of this sort of thing..."

John snickered sleepily and Sherlock glanced over.

"Have you many such experiences to compare it to?"

She turned the colour of a ripe beetroot and whacked him on the arm.

"No I do not! You little..."

"ANY way." Interrupted John. "What are we doing with the books Sherlock."

"The numbers were instructions..." He replied.

"Leading to books?"

"Leading to specific pages and words in _a _book." Said Demi. "We just need to find one that both of them have and solve the riddle."

"Well then this shouldn't take too long should it?" He replied sarcastically as they all began unpacking the boxes.

**Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

DI Dimmock walked in shortly after they had started unpacking the books.

"Found these at the museum." He said, brandishing the photographs of the graffiti. "They yours?"

"We hoped Soo Lin could decipher them for us." Said John as the others unpacked books, seeming to communicate wordlessly if anything of interest showed up. He watched them curiously. Rumours about those two had spread like wild fire at Scotland Yard following their stunning escape from a murderous cabbie. He could see it now, what Sally had mentioned, that abnormal feeling you got when watching both of them concentrate on something, how they seemed so similar and so different at once. He felt stupid just being in the same room, how did that doctor manage to share a flat with the two of them?

"Anything I can do to assist you?" He asked. Sherlock didn't even look up as he spoke.

"Some silence right now would be marvellous."

He looked down at John who shrugged and continued his searching of his own pile of books. Dimmock turned to leave, hearing the voice of Demitria Blake, who while admittedly very attractive scared him out of his wits almost every time she pointed those weirdly bright blue eyes at him.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out...Ooh! Lord of the rings!"

As he left he was sure he heard Sherlock sigh, followed by the sound of something that sounded suspiciously like one of the others had hit him with a book.

Demi continued looking through the books. Harry Potter? Page fifteen...word one...'know'. Damn.

"Found anything?" She asked to no one in particular, watching as Sherlock dumped books on a pile, John sighed and moved the books, Sherlock put _more_ books on the pile and the whole process began again.

"No." Was the unanimous answer. She shrugged and delved into crate number two.

By morning Sherlock had abandoned his jacket completely, revealing a purple shirt which it had to be said looked pretty good. Demi admired the view sleepily over crate thirteen. She herself had abandoned her t-shirt, sitting in a camisole and black trousers, cross legged on the floor. Books littered the floor and John was all but passed out in exhaustion. The clock tower rang and he looked at his watch, sighing.

"I have to get to work."

Demi shot him a sympathetic look as he left the flat. She and Sherlock continued on their crusade.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Once this is over I am sleeping for a very long time. Play that bloody violin while I'm resting and I'll reduce it to splinters."

"No you won't."

"Want to test that theory?" She questioned, throwing a copy of 'Wild beasts and where to find them' at him, smirking as he yelped.

"I'm all right without testing that particular one. Now, look for the book!"

She could swear she saw him smile.

The day was dragging on, it was practically evening and they still hadn't found it.

"I'm starving..."

"Demitria concentrate. A book that everybody would own..."

She opened her eyes wearily, rubbing her forehead. She heaved herself upright.

"I'll go ask Aunty Jean if she has some of that pie left...want some?"

He shot her a look and she shrugged, passing John on the way out.

"Evening."

She was climbing the stairs again, pie in hand, when John walked by in a fresh set of clothes.

"Going somewhere nice?"

"I have a date." He replied, smiling somewhat smugly.

"Get in there Johnny boy! Pie?"

"There's a reason I keep you around." He grinned, taking the offered bowl.

John had left not ten minutes ago.

"Demitria wear something nice I'm taking you on a date."

She spat her coffee onto the floor in shock.

"I beg your pardon? Your taking me on a what?"

"A date." He replied, looking her in the eyes with an odd expression. "You know, where two people who like each other go out and have fun?"

She blinked slowly. Sherlock frowned. Was she going into shock?

"Sherlock..."

"It's not a romantic date of course, it's for the case. Purely hypothetical." He explained quickly, reading wrongly into her silence. She ignored the painful sting of his words.

"Ah. Does this hypothetical date require sensible foot wear?"

He grinned. Great. Running.

Then again, she did get to go on a date with Sherlock Holmes. She mentally slapped herself, pushing all thoughts of exactly how nice he looked in his purple shirt to the back of her mind and leaving to change into something that wasn't two days old. He watched her leave and grinned. A hypothetical date. Mycroft was going to be kicking himself (after all, he didn't really need to know about the hypothetical part...).

**You kind of need to have read my filler story to understand the whole Mycroft thing. Go on, give it a whirl. You might even enjoy it!**


	11. Chapter 11

Demi and Sherlock walked to the circus awkwardly, unsure of whether or not physical contact was necessary in a hypothetical date. Eventually Demi decided that if he was dragging her out in the freezing cold in order to do lord only knows what she was getting her moneys worth. She looped her arm into his, smiling smugly as he stiffened, frowned slightly and looked down at her.

"What are you doing?"

"Being your hypothetical girlfriend. _Sweetheart_."

His breath hitched slightly as she grinned up at him cheekily. It must have been the cold, he was struggling to respire adequately. One of Mycroft's men snapped a photo of them and Demi scowled.

"Who were they?"

"My brother seems to have taken a particular interest in you and John. Mostly you. They've been following us since you moved in, no doubt feeding back our every move to Mycroft himself."

"Why would he be interested in me?"

"Because Demitria my dear, you are interesting. And quite possibly mentally unstable."

She shoved against him playfully and they laughed, breath fogging the night air.

She saw John and stopped dead.

"Oh Sherlock you didn't."

"I did. Hello John."

"What are you doing here?"

Sherlock pointed to Demi.

"Date."

John raised his eyebrows.

"You and Demi?"

"It's a long story John. It's not a date but it is a date and...well it's all rather confusing. Hi there I'm Demitria, you must be Sarah."

John wondered idly how Demi knew Sarah's name before deciding that he honestly didn't want to know. They paid for the tickets and John dragged Sherlock off to find out what was really going on while the two women chatted.

"So you're Sherlock's girlfriend then?"

Demi shook her head.

"No, me and John are his flat mates. I think he's misinterpreted the word 'date' to mean any sort of outing. We're friends but..no, just no. You're a doctor right?"

Sarah nodded.

"Yes, how I met John. You?"

"Mortician at St. Barts, studied Forensics and Criminology, just finished this year."

"So you're what? Twenty..."

"Nine next month."

They walked to catch up, hearing the end of a rather amusing comment from John causing Demi to collapse against her 'date' in fits of giggles. They climbed the stairs.

"Nice." Said Demi.

Sherlock smiled slightly as she looked around, apparently having forgotten her grip on his arm.

"This isn't a circus Sherlock." Said John.

"This isn't their day job John." He reminded him.

"Oh sorry I forgot, they're not a circus they're a gang of international smugglers."

Sarah raised her eyebrows, leaning in to whisper to Demi.

"Smugglers?"

"It's a case, Sherlock's a detective."

Sarah didn't miss the note of reverence in her new friend's tone but refrained from commenting, nodding. A tiny drum beat started and they watched as a woman set off a rather scary looking crossbow.

"Ay karumba that's fast." Murmured Demi, stepping as close to Sherlock as she could given the imminent threat of said crossbow being turned on _them_. After all, the murderer had tried to kill her once already. He explained the act to her quietly, whispering into her ear.

"Ancient Chinese escapology act. Cross bow is on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires. She empties the sand bag, the ball lowers into the bowl and he has to escape before contact."

She watched, enthralled as the man escaped just in time to avoid being turned into a human kebab. As they clapped, he grasped her arm, dragging her to the back of the stage.

"Sherlock what are we..."

"Ssh." He silenced her with a finger on her scarlet lips. "Follow me."

They searched around backstage, Sherlock shoved her and himself behind a rack of costumes as someone entered. They were so close that she was pretty sure the breath she had just inhaled was the one he had just exhaled. She picked a can of yellow spray paint out of a bag and showed him as they left the confined space. He tested in on a mirror and she jumped up as someone lurking in the shadows leapt towards Sherlock, wielding what appeared to be a sword. Obviously they had seen her as the lesser threat.

Oh how she loved showing people like that exactly how wrong they were.

She used a few of the moves Sherlock had taught her to distract him for long enough for Sherlock to spray him in the face with yellow paint. Damn that guy was fast, he had both her and Sherlock on their toes avoiding his wild slashes with the blade. She toppled out of the curtains, assassin on top of her, landing with a shriek. There were several frightened shouts from the crowd as Sherlock leapt out after him and yanked him roughly off of Demitria, receiving a whack for his trouble. John ran forwards as people headed for the exit, stopping the attacker from knocking one of his flatmates out cold. The man kicked him in the stomach and he doubled over, seeing Demi sneak up behind them and, pinching her fingers by his neck, paralyse him temporarily before looked concernedly in his direction. Sarah grabbed a pole and hit the man on the head as he began to resurface. Demi grinned at her, eyes wide with adrenaline.

"I think we could get along very well...you all right down there Sherlock?"

She held out a hand and helped him upright from where the attacker had managed to knock him backwards. He ripped the shoe off of the unconscious man, revealing the tattoo.

"Come on! Let's go!"

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	12. Chapter 12

Demitria was really considering punching a certain DI in the face. She would go easy on him, ,only breaking his nose and jaw. No need to blind the man just yet...

"Look we sent a couple of cars, the old hall is completely deserted."

"We saw the mark at the circus! The tattoo that was on Lucas and Van Coon was also on the rather smelly foot of a Chinese circus performer who I might add tried to kill us with a machete." Demi replied, tired and frustrated with his lack of response. Sarah looked around, lost, still holding onto John's arm like a lifeline.

"Lucas and Van Coon were part of their smuggling ring...one of them stole something valuable from China." Said John.

"Now these circus performers were gang members sent to get it back." Finished Sherlock.

"Get what back?"

"We don't know." Admitted John. Dimmock raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know?"

"We know a damn sight more than you do sunshine!" Growled Demi, eliciting a tiny, frightened giggle fro Sarah.

"Mr Holmes, I have done everything you've asked. Lestrade seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid, please tell me I'll have something to show for it other than a massive bill for overtime?"

"How about a black eye?" Suggested Demi, smiling sweetly and celebrating internally when she saw him flinch to cover his face before recollecting himself.

"We'll see ourselves out." Said Sherlock, grabbing her wrist and dragging her away, ignoring the stares sent their way.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow." Said John.

"No they won't, they won't leave without what they came for." Even without sleep Demi's inner criminologist was cataloguing all it could about the Black Lotus.

"We need to find their hide out...their rendez vous." Said Sherlock staring at the wall while Demi handed Sarah and John cups of tea.

"Is it just me or is anyone else starving?" Sarah suggested.

"Oh God." Moaned Sherlock boredly. Demi clapped him round the ear with a copy of the Da Vinci Code.

"Shut up you. John check the fridge."

"Why me?"

"You're her date. Your job." She replied, smiling sweetly as a grouchy Sherlock lowered himself into a chair. Sarah looked at the walls as he rooted around the cupboards and through the leftovers from Demi's shopping trip.

"So this is what you do? You solve puzzles for a living?"

"Consulting detective." Said Sherlock as Demi nodded from where she was glaring at the pictures pinned to the walls. Annoyed, she threw a dart at one of them angrily and Sarah jumped.

"Oops, sorry, forgot you were there. Don't usually do that..."

"Yes you do." Supplied Sherlock. She glared at the back of his head.

"Okay maybe I do but not when we have company."

Sarah walked over and asked Sherlock another question. Demi gleefully noted that the presence of another woman didn't have the same effect as her presence before physically slapping herself in the face for even thinking such thoughts, earning an odd look from John who was still rooting through the cupboards. She shrugged and smiled gratefully at her aunt who dropped off a tray of punch and crisps. Sarah said something and Sherlock was on his feet.

"Demitria! John! Soo Lin had already started deciphering it! Look...Nine Mill."

"Nine million?" Suggested Demi.

"Nine million quid for what?" Asked Sherlock. He jumped up, grabbing his coat.

"We must have been staring right at it! Come on, let's go!"

"Go where?" Demanded John as Sarah watched all three of them interact (Demi was at this point stood, sleepily rubbing her eyes and muttering about annoying men and their annoying amounts of energy).

"The museum restoration room! While we were running around in the galleries, Soo Lin was translating the code! It must have been on her desk!" He ran out of the flat as Demi munched on one of the crisps left for them.

"Take away?" John asked, the two women nodded and he went off to find the menus, smiling apologetically.

"I feel like the third wheel...I don't have to go with him do I? He's annoying me!" Asked Demi.

Sarah chuckled and shook her head.

"It's your flat, I'm not going to make you leave. How do you manage this? I mean I like to go out and wrestle a couple of Chinese gangsters as much as the next girl but..."

Demi laughed.

"It's exciting. My life was always so boring and then suddenly I'm solving murders and wrestling gangsters. Sherlock doesn't seem to understand the fact that I actually need to sleep though."

"Then there's Sherlock. You like him don't you?"

Demi went the colour of a ripe tomato and shook her head.

"He's my friend, nothing more. Besides he doesn't do relationships and he acts like he's about five half of the time."

The door went and Demi went to answer it, opening it quickly.

"Yup?"

"Do you have it?"

"Have what?"

"The treasure..."

"What treas..." He smacked her with something hard and the last thing she saw was the face of the Chinese circus performer before everything went black.

Sherlock ran up the stairs.

"John! Demitria! I've got it! The book was the London A to Z..."

He trailed off. The flat was silent. There was no John, no Sarah and no Demitria.

There were two symbols on the windows, painted in yellow paint. They matched the ones he had just deciphered.

Dead Man.

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	13. Chapter 13

Demi had a headache when she woke up, tied to a chair. It was like the worst hang over she'd ever had (and she'd had a few) multiplied by ten. Her eyes cracked open and she saw John opposite her, also tied up. Turning her head slightly she saw Sarah, tied and gagged. She tried to wriggle out of her own bonds but they were so tight the blood was refusing to circulate properly.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket Mr Holmes." A Chinese woman spoke to John.

"I-I'm not Sherlock Holmes."

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She replied.

"You really should. Sherlock's taller than he is and infinitely weirder." Demi spoke loudly in the echoing silence, receiving a slap with the butt of a gun for her effort. The woman pointed out Sherlock's card, cheque and the tickets John had collected under Sherlock's name, even repeating what he had yelled through the letter box of Soo Lin's flat.

"Three times we have tried to kill you, what does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight little girl?" The woman – General Shan it turns out – asked Demi.

"He needs sacking?" In hindsight that probably hadn't been an incredibly well planned answer.

"He's not really trying." They pulled the trigger and she flinched...but nothing happened. They turned to John.

"No more blank bullets Mr Holmes. Do you have it?"

"Have what?" He asked, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain." They unveiled the crossbow from the circus alongside a second one, both pointed at the two women. Demi's voice died in her throat, mind no longer on snappy comments but how much she was going to haunt Sherlock Holmes' sorry behind if he didn't get them out of there alive.

"Everything in the West has it's price Mr Holmes. The price for their lives is information."

Sarah began to panic, Demi murmured quietly to her.

"Sarah don't move, if you move they'll shoot you anyway. Sherlock will get us out of here okay?"

Sarah just cried.

"Where is the pin?"

"What?" Asked John, distressed now.

"The Empress pin! We already had a buyer in the west – nine million sterling – then one of our carriers got greedy and stole it!"

Please you have to believe me! I'm not Sherlock Holmes and I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for!"

They split the sandbags and even Demi was crying now. She'd be seeing her daddy soon...

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the moonlit shores of N-W-1, we bring for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes' pretty companions in a death-defying act!"

"No! Please!" Shouted John "I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"

"I don't believe you!"

"You should you know." Came the deep and arrogant voice of Sherlock Holmes. It sounded angry. Very angry. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."

The General cocked her gun and pointed it behind Demi in the direction of the voice.

"How would you describe me John, Demi? Resourceful, dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Late?" Suggested John breathlessly.

"Irritating?" Threw in Demi.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you shoot the bullet will travel at over 1000 metres per second."

"Well?"

"Well..." Demi heard him knock someone out and smiled. "The radius curve of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet and it could hit anyone. Including you."

The light behind Demi went out with a violent _crash!_ And Demi saw him trying to untie Sarah, only to be strangled by a man with a scarf.

"Sherlock!"

Demi saw the sand bag emptying and made a decision that could cost her her own life.

"Sorry Sarah."

With that she flung out the leg she had been loosening from it's ties and knocked Sarah out of the firing line of the arrow. She didn't have enough time to move herself fully away... John tried to hop over on his chair and landed on his face, something Demi would have found amusing had she not been about to die. Sarah's arrow flew out seconds before Demi's (her bag had been split first) shooting Sherlock's assailant in the side.

"Demitria!" Sherlock leapt over, knocking her chair down just as the arrow grazed his arm.

General Shan was gone, his arm was bleeding heavily. He didn't care. Demi lay beneath him, tears smearing her make up in black lines down her face, breath fogging in the cold of the tunnel as he loosened the bonds still tying her to the chair.

She was beautiful.

"It's okay...it's all right...it's over now." He resisted the urge to wipe away the treacherous tears, loosening her hands and watching the blood rush back into them.

"Sherlock..."

"Yes?"

"You're crushing my foot."

He leapt upright, moving to untie Sarah and John to hide his face. She would have noticed something in his expression had he stayed facing her.

"Sorry. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine..." She gasped. "Just peachy."

John looked over to Sarah.

"Next date won't be like this...I promise." She smiled weakly.

Demi pointedly refused another shock blanket. Sherlock all but had to drag her away from the irritating medic who very nearly lost a limb insisting that she needed it. His own arm had been bandaged and Sarah had accepted a blanket, walking off arm in arm with John just ahead of them. Demi herself was clinging to Sherlock's arm. He didn't appear to mind so she didn't let go. He seemed to understand her need for physical contact in order to gain reassurance. She was a hugger, end of. Dimmock stood by a police car.

"Holmes..."

"I have high hopes for you Inspector. A glittering career." Said Sherlock.

"I just go where you point me."Argued Dimmock.

"Exactly." Said Demi. "Sherlock can we go home now?"

He nodded and they walked off.

Sherlock wasn't entirely irritated by the fact that he had to all but carry her home.

John and Demi were allowed a few hours rest before they were sat up around the kitchen table discussing hair pins.

"So ninety million pounds for a hair pin?" Asked John incredulously. Demi and Sherlock nodded as the former poured them all coffee and demanded that the latter keep his feet off of the table.

"Why so much?"

"Depends who owned it." Replied Sherlock, sipping on his coffee.

Demi glared up at the bank again.

"Eddie Van Coon was the thief." Explained Sherlock. "He got greedy and stole the pin."

"How do you know that?" Demanded Demi. "Even the killer didn't know that!"

"The soap." With that he walked through the revolving doors and into the bank.

"Well that clears it all up doesn't it John?"

He just laughed and followed her through. Sherlock marched over to Van Coon's PA.

"He bought you a present didn't he? Something from China?" Asked Sherlock as the pieces began to click into places in Demi's mind. The cream on her desk...the soap in his apartment...it all made sense.

"Yes...How?"

"You weren't just his PA were you?" Asked Demi.

"Someone's been gossiping." Said Amanda.

"Nope. He had scented hand soap, almost empty. No self respecting bloke buys scented soap unless he has a lady coming round. It's the same brand as the hand cream on your desk."

The woman stuttered.

"Look it wasn't serious between us. It was over in a flash, couldn't be serious. He was my boss.."

"What happened?" Asked Sherlock "Why did you end it?"

"I thought he didn't appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once too often. We'd plan to go away for the weekend and then he'd just leave."

"He bought you a present to make up though." Said Demi. "That's a gorgeous hair pin, could I have a look?"

The woman handed it over as John went to collect the cheque from Sebastian (Demi had firmly refused to be in the same room as the perverted git).

"Said he bought it in a street market."

"I don't think that's true, I think he pinched it." Said Sherlock as Demi looked at it.

"That sounds like Eddie."

"Didn't know it's value, just thought it would suit you..." Said Demi.

"Oh really?" Said Amanda. "How much is it worth?"

"Nine million pounds." Said Sherlock. The woman stood up, mouth wide.

"OH MY GOD! NINE MILLION!"

Demi took the paperwork to Scotland Yard the next day, handing it to Dimmock with a flourish.

"Release forms on the bodies. All yours. COD semi-automatic handgun."

"Does this mean I get my client's details now?" Came the voice she had hated since childhood.

"Yes Sebastian, it does. Now if you will excuse me." She turned to leave, nodding to Donovan in recognition as she passed. Donovan herself stopped to hear the conversation nosily.

"You can tell your boyfriend I'm not scared of him." Said Sebastian. Demi frowned.

"Who?"

"That Holmes man, told me that if I didn't leave you alone he'd make my life hell. Says he has connections."

Demi smiled slightly. Sherlock had stood up for her?

"Oh he does. CIA, FBI, random vagrants, he knows them all. I've been to dinner with one of his government ones. And Sebastian? He's not my boyfriend."

Donovan snorted disbelievingly and Demi glared at her.

"I'll be telling mother about this you know, it simply isn't acceptable. Where do you live anyway?"

"221B Baker Street. Try to visit and you'll get a door slammed in your face. Tell mother what you want, I'm not a little girl you can bully any more?"

She walked away.

"Well who are you then Demitria?"

Demi shot him a 100-watt smile.

"Your worst nightmare. Goodbye Sebastian."

She poked her tongue out at one of Mycroft's camera men and skipped off home to rest before work.

The next day General Shan was found with a bullet through her skull.

They had won the battle, but that was a sign.

A sign of the upcoming war.

**AND I AM FINISHED! REIVEW!**


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